


Assortment of Klaine AU Friday Fic

by Katranga



Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine AU Fridays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2050002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katranga/pseuds/Katranga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember Klaine AU Friday on tumblr? Authors were given an AU and then they wrote Klaine into it. Here are most of mine. Each chapter is a different AU, which include: superhero, zombie, circus and more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Superhero

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello each chapter comes with its own warnings so please heed those if you have things you'd rather not read about!  
> These were all written the summer between season 3 and season 4, just for a frame of reference.  
> They're all fairly short, because authors were given the AU on Friday and encouraged to complete the fic on the same day. However, my longest (and favourite) Klaine AU Friday fic has already been posted separately from this collection because it is longer than usual.  
> Okay, down to business.
> 
> Chapter 1: Superhero AU  
> Warnings: Mild violence, rehash of Blaine's Sadie Hawkins (with a happier ending)

Kurt spent a lot of time alone in his room, designing costumes for himself. Well, for himself and his sidekick.

Not that he had a sidekick.

But he wanted one.

Or he himself could be the sidekick.

Or actually, they could probably both be of equal importance in the duo.

He didn’t really care about the specifics, he just wanted someone to work with while he… saved the world? Maybe they could start with the country. Or the state.

Maybe just Lima. They should start small. They wouldn’t want to overwhelm themselves, Kurt and his nonexistent partner.

He spent a lot of time thinking about potential superheroic escapades, and sometimes he got a bit carried away with the term ‘partner’ and all the connotations that could have and that’s always when he started paying particularly close attention to the ass part of whatever costume he was drawing for his faceless companion.

That’s generally when he set the notebook down and reminded himself that he was a small-town teenager with the curfew of eleven o’clock who couldn’t even defend himself against the bullies at his school. There was little to no chance of him ever becoming a superhero, let alone having some sort of heroic partner by his side.

He’d had powers since he was born, but he wasn’t supposed to use them in public because the general consensus was that superheroes were _bad_ and ruining America, even if it they actually saved the country, and _world_ , daily. So he knew that if he happened to reveal his powers, the arguably mild harassment in school would become unbearable.

Kurt had a lot of unspent energy, so instead of being in bed, where his dad thought he was, he strolled around town most nights. Looking for danger, someone to save. He’d feel bad about lying to his dad and potentially putting himself in danger, but the worst he ever saw was teens graffiting, and he let that slide anyway.

And how much danger could he actually get in when he was invisible? He had the power of super speed, which he’d worked out fairly early on meant that if he vibrated fast enough he’d move too fast to be seen by humans.

Sometimes he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and his little ‘walks’ took him out of Lima, to completely different towns. He was wandering around a park, trying to figure out where he was so he could get back home before sunrise, when he heard a cry of distress.

He skidded to a stop, still vibrating enough to remain invisible. A _smack_ echoed across the parking lot on the other side of the road, and his eyes zeroed in on a group of people huddled in a darkened corner.

There was a pained shout and Kurt thought, _Shit, holy shit. This is a crime in progress, this is something I can potentially stop. Oh my God, I finally get to save someone._

Without much more deliberation, he sped across the street to the scene. Two boys were surrounded by another four, and one slapped a pipe menacingly against his palm.

 _A pipe? Where do people even_ find _pipes?_ Kurt thought incredulously.

A boy with a gash above his forehead looked past his attackers and frowned curiously in Kurt’s direction. Kurt looked down at his arm, startled, but he was definitely still invisible.

“You think you’d be allowed to just go to a dance together?” the boy with the pipe asked, tone filled with loathing. “You’re disgusting.”

He lifted the weapon and Kurt shot over before realizing that he didn’t have any defense of his own. He clenched his fist, trying to remember what Puck had said about punching. Thumb on the inside or outside? Ugh, he was so bad at this already.

“Outside,” said the boy who’d looked at him.

Kurt took his advice despite his confusion, and pulled his arm back before launching his fist at the attacker’s skull, hoping that speed would make up for lack of actual strength.

Luckily, it paid off. The boy’s arm dropped and he stumbled into his comrades.

“What the hell, man?” one asked.

“Something hit me!” he cried, hand going to his head.

The victim that hadn’t spoken utilized his attackers’ distraction to slip past them and run towards the school doors across the parking lot.

“Hey!” one thug called out, making a move to go after him.

Kurt shoved him into a wall to allow the boy a chance to escape.

“What the fuck?” he swung an arm out reflexively, but Kurt was already out of his range.

“What are you doing?” the boy with the pipe growled, advancing on the remaining victim.

“Nothing.” His eyes were wide. “Maybe it’s karma for attacking two innocent people.”

“You think you’re innocent? You’re _vile_.”

“Ooh, someone has a word a day calendar,” he joked.

Oh my God, was he _stupid_ or just oblivious?

“Stupid,” he grinned cheekily, not looking away from the thug that towered over him.

Kurt froze, so shocked that he flickered into vision before catching himself.

“What was that?” one boy jumped.

“You calling me stupid?” the first boy asked, ignoring his friend’s outburst.

He lifted a shoulder musingly. “You _did_ decide to pick on the resident boxing champion.”

“Well now you got no backup and I have a pipe. Let’s see who wins this one.”

He nodded at his friends and they moved forward to grab the outspoken boy, but Kurt punched the one closest to him in the stomach. He started to bend over, clutching his middle, and Kurt kneed him in the nose before shoving him to the ground.

“What the fuck are you doing, Greg?” pipe boy growled.

“I-I got hit,” he groaned.

“What is happening?” he shouted angrily.

“There’s someone else here!” a smaller boy squeaked.

“That’s right,” Kurt said, purposely deepening his voice to sound more intimidating. He always sounded a weird when he was invisible, like he was sitting on a vibrating chair, but he hoped they’d be too startled to care. “And if you don’t leave him alone you’re all going to regret it.”

“Fuck this shit!” the small boy cried, retreating.

“Brendon, you piece of-!”

“He’s smart,” Kurt interrupted, circling the remaining three thugs. “You should all get out of here. _Now_.”

The boy on the ground slowly stood up and limped away, ignoring his leader’s protests.

“Two against two, finally even,” the victim piped up, smiling brightly. “You scared, Tyler?”

“You got some _freak_ super friends?” he sneered. “I’m not surprised.”

Kurt strolled casually closer to him and tugged the pipe from his hands. It disappeared in his grasp, and he tossed it from hand to hand. It flickered in and out of vision while it was in the air. “A freak with a pipe,” he commented. “Scared now, Tyler?”

He dodged forward, trying to retrieve his weapon, but Kurt swerved and forced him against the wall, shoving the pipe against his throat in one smooth motion.

“Because you should be,” he whispered lowly.

Tyler struggled, but Kurt easily countered his moves quick enough to keep him down.

“Keith went to get a teacher, he should be back soon,” the boy said, casually leaning on the wall next to them. The remaining attacker had run off.

“Okay,” Kurt said.

“I’m Blaine,” he said cheerily.

“I’m not gonna watch some fucking homos flirt in front of-”

Kurt slammed his fist into Tyler’s face and he slumped against the wall, unconscious.

“Whoops,” he said, pulling the pipe away and letting him fall to the ground. He glanced around the parking lot and then came into vision.

He looked at Blaine anxiously. “You’re bleeding,” he finally said.

“I’d be worse if you hadn’t shown up,” he replied, grin bright on his face.

“Do- do you read minds?” Kurt asked unsurely.

“Sometimes,” he winked.

Kurt blushed.

The doors to the school banged open and a few people started running towards them. Kurt instantly went invisible again.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked.

He was about to ask how he knew his name but then remembered- telepathy, of course.

“Don’t- don’t tell them anything about me, please,” he said.

“Of course,” he nodded. He looked indecisive for a split second before he said, “Um so, before the principal gets here- can I have your number?”

“My number?” he repeated, confused.

“If you wouldn’t be opposed to me further getting to know your secret identity, yeah,” he said, biting his lip.

He rattled it off for him.“Got that, Mr. Mind Reader?”

Blaine’s face lit up. “That’s a great super hero name! I’ve been trying to think of one for _ages._ ”

Kurt smiled shyly. “Well, I might just have your costume.”


	2. Firefighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mention of Seblaine, cheating, fire

Blaine didn’t know what happened. He was usually able to control it. He hardly ever used his power because he was scared of it and what was a musician supposed to do with the ability to create fire anyway?

So Blaine was probably more terrified than anyone that the bedroom he’d been sharing with his boyfriend of two years was suddenly up in flames. Finding Sebastian in bed ( _their_ bed, the bed they’d shared for the better part of six months) with the barista that was always flirting with him was such a shock to Blaine, such a betrayal, that his emotions didn’t really know what to do.

He was distraught and horrified and furious and stunned and before he knew it the doorway he was standing in was blazing and the fire was travelling towards the bed where Sebastian and Chandler were frantically disengaging and screaming now because fire, the room was on _fire_ , burning up the carpet and the bed sheets and the drapes.

“Blaine- Blaine what the fuck?” Sebastian coughed, scrambling up to the headboard to try and get away from the fire. Regardless of the inferno raging around him, it was Blaine that received his horrified gaze.

Flames licked up Blaine’s legs but didn’t hurt him and he remembered that Sebastian didn’t _know_ because he pretended his power didn’t exist and so he’s never told hm. He was so disconnected with his power that it took Chandler’s wild shrieking to remind him that it was all Blaine’s fault that the room was going up in smoke.

He tried to tone it down, waved his hands desperately in an attempt to force the flames into submission, but he could never do anything, he’d always been useless.

“I’m sorry!” he shouted, tears biting at his eyes as thick black smoke filled the room. He turned around, back into the hallway to look for the phone or an extinguisher, but the fire was spreading, it wasn’t just the bedroom now it was tearing through the whole house, everything, Blaine had ruined everything.

And he might have been immune to fire, but the smoke was filling his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe, to function, he didn’t know what to do and he couldn’t see and he could still hear Chandler’s manic cries and oh God, Sebastian, was he okay? Was he burning away? What was Blaine supposed to _do_?

He heard a loud crack as he slumped to the floor, choking on smoke in his living room. The ceiling was going to cave in on him and he would die having killed two people after doing nothing to help them.

But then a mask appeared in front of his eyes and his terrified face was reflected back at him.

“Come on.” A tight hand on his arm, pulling him up off the floor.

Blaine shook his head vehemently, pointing to the bedroom. “I’m sorry, please, save them, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it, I don’t know-” he babbled, crying because he didn’t deserve to be saved he started this stupid mess and he couldn’t fix it and he should just lay there and succumb to smoke inhalation.

“Sir, you have to come with me. Other officers are rescuing your friends. Everything’s going to be alright,” a kind voice assured, dragging him towards the front door, which had been smashed open.

“Please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Oh my God!” the firefighter shouted, as flames shot out of Blaine’s fingers, hitting the floor in front of them.

“Fuck oh no, I’m sorry! I don’t know how to control it, please, I’m-”

The other man lifted his visor and stared at Blaine in shock, but not in terror or disgust. His eyes were incredibly blue and that’s all that Blaine noticed before the man tore off his glove and aimed his naked hand at the blaze blocking the door.

A jet of clear water leaped from his outstretched fingers to the flames, extinguishing them quickly.

“Wh- what?” Blaine gasped. Then nearly hacked up a lung trying to rid himself of smoke.

“Come on,” the firefighter repeated, pushing at his back to get him out the door.

Blaine stumbled out of his house, and was guided to an ambulance where an oxygen mask was pulled over his mouth. He was still sobbing inconsolably.

“Hey,” the firefighter was with him still, his hand on Blaine’s shoulder as he leaned down to look him in the eye. “It’s gonna be okay, understand? You’re okay. The others are okay.”

Blaine nodded up and down, taking exaggerated gulps of air.

“My name is Kurt,” the firefighter said, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re not alone.”

 


	3. Vintage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Nothing, except for gratuitous use of 80's slang

The late afternoon sun was shining across Blaine’s backyard as he dragged a kitchen chair onto the back porch. He stared at it contemplatively, and then patted his fluffy hair, for once not covered in gel.

“I don’t know about this, Puck,” Blaine worried as he walked back into his house.

His friend was bent over the coffee table, pawing through his vinyl collection.

“Trust me, Blaine. I know what I’m doing,” he replied. “As soon as we get some respectable tunes playing, I’ll start. Unfortunately, all you got is fuckin’ Cyndi Lauper and Tom Jones. What’s your damage?”

“It’s quality music,” he defended, trying not to pout.

“It’s bogus. Like, dude, my _grandma_ listens to Tom Jones,” he shook his head. “And my little sister dances to ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ at her slumber parties.”

“But Puck, you have to admit that ‘Time After Time’ is a work of genius. It transcends-”

“The Beatles, are you kidding me?” Puck cut in.

“Don’t bag on The Beatles!” he warned, grabbing the record out of his grimy hands. He carefully slotted it back into place, almost groaning out loud when he realized that Puck had ruined the alphabetization of his entire collection.

“I’m not. I’m complaining that you have all twenty of their albums-”

“Not _even_! There are twelve _-_ ”

“- and you ain’t got no Guns n’ Roses _._ Twisted Sister. Anything good!”

“That was a double negative,” Blaine muttered, annoyed at being continuously cut off. He ducked out of the way of Puck’s open hand “And ‘ain’t’ isn’t a word!” he added, laughing and jumping up on the arm of his couch to avoid a smack.

“You got a shitty taste in music, bowties are your favourite accessory, and you act like an English teacher outside of school. Why am I friends with you, again?” Puck scoffed, lazily swiping at Blaine’s leg.

“Because I’m _adorable_ ,” he replied, leaping towards the other end of the couch. “And you can’t resist my charms.”

“This fucking bubble gum pop is melting your head, kid,” Puck insisted, waving around the latest Madonna album.

“Madonna is a _goddess_ ,” he enthused, hopping off of the couch and landing delicately on his feet. He started swatting the now-dirty fabric, remembering that his mother had ordered him to stop jumping on the furniture.

“She’s got nice tits, I’ll give her that much,” Puck conceded after inspecting the album cover for a minute. “I’d get on my knees for her, if you know what I mean.”

Blaine did not.

Luckily, at that moment the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it!” he volunteered, seeing as it was, after all, his house.

He bounded to the front door and flung it open. His natural beaming grin froze in place however, when he saw who was calling.

“That despicable excuse for a human being is here, isn’t he?” his neighbour asked, nose scrunched in distaste. His neighbour, who happened to be Kurt Hummel, who happened to be the most perfect human being in the whole entire universe.

Blaine’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he simply nodded.

“Please return this to him,” Kurt requested, voice unfairly lovely, even when thoroughly annoyed. He held out a record, pinched tightly between thumb and forefinger, as if he wanted to keep contact with it to a minimum. “Apparently it’s his and he left it at my house. Finn has been playing it nonstop and I can simply not stand listening to him sing about how much he wants to bone a school administrator one more time.”

Blaine gingerly took the record from him, fumbling to grasp it after Kurt let it fall from his fingers too soon, assuming that Blaine had a good hold on it when he didn’t. He blushed and apologized, even though it wasn’t really his fault, and that was when Puck ambled up to the door, wondering what was taking so long.

“Noah,” Kurt greeted, lip curling.

“Princess,” he acknowledged with a nod.

Kurt didn’t like Puck. Blaine had never heard him use these terms, but he was pretty sure that Kurt thought Puck was a no-good rapscallion hoodlum. Blaine assumed that these were the thoughts that ran through Kurt’s head every time he saw Puck because he got the same look on his face that Blaine’s mom did whenever she set eyes on the mohawked boy. And those were the words she often used to describe his friend.

“Wicked leg warmers,” Puck scoffed from behind Blaine.

Blaine’s eyes wandered away from Kurt’s face, down his chest, which was scarcely covered in a tight tank top, down to his legs clad in bright tights, to his calves, wrapped in knitted blue leg warmers. _Blaine_ certainly liked them.

Kurt flushed, and adjusted the sweatband on his forehead. “I was working out.”

“I can see that,” Puck guffawed. “Hoping to get ‘physical’ with somebody?” He laughed, amused with his joke.

Kurt pursed his lips indignantly, and Blaine stared at them, completely enraptured.

“Blaine, come on, that was funny.” Puck nudged him in the ribs. “You know, like the music video. With Olivia what’s-her-head?”

He snapped back to reality. “Topical,” he replied with an absent nod.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him and he immediately wished he could take it back. “You have such a fantastic taste in companions, Blaine.”

“I-”

“He certainly does,” Puck cut in, dragging Blaine back from the doorway and moving to slam the door shut.

“Bye, Kurt!” Blaine managed before Kurt was left staring at his front door.

“Loser,” Puck muttered before swiping the record out of Blaine’s hands. “Aw, Van Halen! _Now_ we have something to listen to! Go wait for me outside and I’ll put this on.”

* * *

 

Music poured through the screen door as Blaine nervously looked over the supplies. A kitchen chair, a towel, his dad’s electric razor, and a box of tissues- ‘just in case’. In case Puck cut his ear open in the process of giving him what would most likely be the world’s most ill-advised haircut.

“ _Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m hot for teacher_!” Puck bellowed, sliding the door open to join Blaine out back. “You ready?” he asked Blaine.

“You should join glee club,” Blaine deflected.

He snorted. “Get real Blaine, I’m not spending an extra hour in school with you and your lame-o friends. No offense. Now sit your ass down and quit looking like I’m about to chop your head off.”

Blaine dutifully sat down, but still gnawed on his lip anxiously. “I still don’t think this is a really good idea,” he said.

“Dude, I promise you. It’s a righteous look,” he said, plugging the razor into the outdoor jack. “You’ll have the girls _dragging_ you to their beds.”

“I-” Blaine swallowed loudly.

_I don’t want to experience that._

_I’m not interested in girls._

_I’m gay._

He could think the words but they clogged up his throat and got twisted up in his tongue, making it impossible for him to say them to his friend. He wasn’t ashamed of who he was, but he was apprehensive of Puck’s reaction. He had told his parents a few years ago, and his announcement had _not_ been well-received. His dad had threatened to hit him if he told anybody else. His mother had just grimaced at him, not unlike the expression that took over her face when Puck was in the room.

And if his own parents couldn’t accept him for who he was, how could he expect his friends to?

The buzz of the electric razor reached his ears and he was just deciding that it was only hair after all when he heard the indignant cry of, “Noah Puckerman!”

A screen door slammed and Blaine turned to see Kurt stomping across their backwards towards them.

“Aw, for Chrissakes,” Puck muttered, throwing a towel around Blaine’s shoulders.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Kurt demanded, stomping up Blaine’s back steps.

“None of your business, princess.”

“Blaine, what is he trying to do to your head?” Kurt asked, a hand on his hip. He’d thrown an oversized sweatshirt on over his workout clothes, the oversized neck hole showing off his pale shoulder.

“I’m giving him a totally bitchin new haircut,” Puck replied. “Now beat it.”

“As if.” Kurt huffed and reached over to yank the razor out of Puck’s grasp.  He looked down at Blaine, still sitting in the chair. “What exactly was he going to do to you?”

“Mohawk,” he mumbled.

“Ugh!” he tilted his head back in annoyance. “Gag me with a spoon.”

“Get bent,” Puck spat.

“Puck,” Blaine whined.

“He insulted my ‘do, man!”

“It looks like you have a dead animal trying to eat your skull,” Kurt said, crossing his arms.

“Ohhkay,” Blaine stood up before Puck could launch an attack. He did his best to cram Puck back inside his house.

“Oh, shove off,” he grumbled, stomping through the door himself.

“Catch ya later,” Blaine said to Kurt, heading back inside.

“You look like John Oates without your hair gelled,” he commented.

“Thank you, Kurt,” he sighed before closing the door and pulling the curtain across the glass.

He shut his eyes and thumped the back of his head lightly against the wall.

“I’m gonna go get my gel,” he announced after a moment.

“Why are you so nice to him?” Puck asked. “He’s an asshole.”

“No he’s not,” he argued. “He just doesn’t like you because you hang out with the wastoids.”

“You mean he thinks _I’m_ a wastoid,” he shot back.

“I didn’t say that!”

“Let’s egg his house,” he said suddenly.

“Chill out, Puck. That’s also Finn’s house,” Blaine reminded him.

“Fine,” he sighed, looking around the living room. “Well I’m bored. Let’s go pick up chicks.”

“I’ll pass,” he said. Obviously.

“Come on. What are you, celibate?” he complained. “Girls would be all up on that ‘cute’ shit you got going and you skip it every time. What gives?”

Puck was staring at him expectantly, and this was Blaine’s chance to tell him. He was _actually_ asking and hoping for an answer. The perfect opportunity, right?

“Do- do you really wanna know?” Blaine asked, mouth suddenly dry.

“No, I’m just asking for my health.” He rolled his eyes. “ _Spill_.”

“I like dick,” he blurted.

“What?” Puck asked.

What?

“What?” Blaine said dumbly.

“You like- _what_?” Puck repeated incredulously. His eyes were wide and Blaine couldn’t tell if he was about to laugh at him or hit him.

“I’m gay,” he said, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. “So um yeah. I don’t- I don’t really want to go cruising for chicks with you.”

His eyebrows rose infinitesimally higher. “Don’t- don’t tell me,” he began, turning his head to the left, the direction of Kurt’s house. “ _Him?_ ” he asked, pointing.

Blaine somehow knew he wasn’t referring to the picture of Jesus on the wall.

“Um.”

“Are you two fucking?”

“NO!” Blaine shouted instantly, jumping in place. “He doesn’t even know, I mean like, _I_ don’t even know if _he’s-_ ”

“What were you, dropped on your head as a child?” Puck cut in. “The kid is _flaming_.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s actually-” he muttered.

“And I think the loser likes you too.”

“What?” he asked, head snapping up.

“Like, nobody should get that upset over a haircut,” he said. “He obviously has a vested interest in your appearance.”

“Um I, wow,” he gaped. “Are you for real? Wait- so you don’t care?”

“I think you can do a fuck load better than Assface McGee, but I sure can’t do anything about it,” he shrugged.

Blaine stared at him for a moment in disbelief, and then threw his arms around him and squeezed tightly.

“Thank you,” he breathed, stepping away.

“What the fuck did I do?” he asked, confused. “I thought you liked the tool.”

“Yeah I do just- thanks for not freaking out,” he beamed.

“More girls for me,” he replied, messing up Blaine’s hair playfully. “Speaking of, since I can’t hook you up with any chicks, I’m gonna help you catch your princess.”

“Um, I don’t really-”

“It’s the least I can do,” he interrupted, flopping down on Blaine’s couch. “No promises; I think the prude’s got his ass locked up tighter than Fort Knox, but I just saw this movie. Girl I was with nearly creamed her pants at the sight.”

So that was how, two nights later, Blaine was standing underneath Kurt’s window, staring up at the small square of light. His palms were sweaty, which caused the guitar in his hands to almost slip out of his grasp a few times. He did not own a boom box, as the film called for, but Puck assured him that it was better. ‘Chicks dig musicians’ he’d said, regardless of the fact that Kurt was not, in fact, a girl.

Blaine was pretty sure it was an _awful_ idea. He was fairly certain it was the stupidest plan he had ever heard to win another person’s heart, and yet he was still there, heartbeat pounding away in his ears. He wasn’t really sure if he would even be able to sing at this point.

He had just turned to leave, when Kurt’s bedroom window slid up.

“Blaine?” he called, confused. His face was silhouetted by the light in his room and Blaine could just make out the shape of his nose and lips. “What are you doing?”

“Um,” he gulped. “This is a terrible idea. But it looks like I’m gonna do it anyway.”

He looked down at his guitar, plucked a few frantic strings and then shakily began the song.

“ _What I want, you've got, but it might be hard to handle_ ,” he sang, slightly more soulfully than the original version. He immediately regretted his decision to do this. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment. How did Puck ever talk him into this? It was all going to end horribly and he was making a complete fool of himself and if a hole in the ground just suddenly appeared to swallow him he would not be at all opposed to his immediate departure from the situation.

Against his better judgement, he looked up at Kurt while he sang, “ _Well you, ooh ooh, oh yeah, you make my dreams come true.”_

He saw his cheek lift, and Kurt crooned back, “ _Ooh ooh, ooh ooh_.”

Blaine’s grin lit up his whole face. If he was an idiot, then at least Kurt liked it.

He played his guitar with a renewed vigour, and started shimmying his hips along to the beat. Kurt’s gentle laugh only encouraged him.

“ _I'm down on my daydream_ ,” he sang loudly up at Kurt. “ _All that sleepwalk should be over by now, I know. Well you! Yeah, yeah, you make my dreams come true_.”

“ _Ooh ooh, ooh ooh_ ,” Kurt accompanied, leaning his head on his hand dreamily.

“ _I've been waiting for, waiting for you, Kurt_ ,” he continued. “ _You make my dreams come true_.”

As the last chords trailed off into the night, Kurt pushed himself off the window ledge and out of Blaine’s sight.

He waited uncertainly, putting his guitar on the ground. _Now_ what was he supposed to do? Puck had not specified.

Then the back door of Kurt’s house flew open and Kurt was racing across his porch to meet him on the grass.

“Blaine,” he breathed, cheeks tinged with pink.

“Um, yeah,” he replied, smile tugging at his lips.

“I-” he began, and then just laughed, the sound high and sweet. “Come here,” he said, waving a hand closer.

Blaine obeyed, stepping right up to him, eyes wide and expectant.

“That was brilliant,” he whispered like he was sharing a secret. He wrapped his arms around Blaine’s neck and the curly haired boy just couldn’t stop grinning.

So Kurt kissed the smile right off his face.


	4. Zombies (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Zombies, violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH ((Rachel and Blaine))

Kurt didn’t have a gun. His father had never seen the need for one and up until this point Kurt had been more than fine with that. But now that his best friend was advancing on him with a surprising amount of speed for someone he’d just seen get hit by a car, he _really_ wished that there was a significant weapon somewhere in the house.

“Rachel, no. Sit!” he shouted hopelessly, chest tight with fear. His neighbour had just ran Rachel down and she’d only picked herself up and dragged herself straight over to Kurt, who’d been screaming in the doorway of his house.

He hadn’t closed the door, locked and bolted it like common sense would dictate. That was his _best friend_ ; he couldn’t just leave her outside! She’d been run over!

But then she reached the porch and Kurt had seen her shoulder hanging down too low, her left eye hanging out of its socket, and her left leg cracked open with bright white bone exposed.

He still hadn’t closed the door, he’d just jumped back and screamed, and of course Rachel had followed.

Now he backed up into the kitchen, refusing to take his eyes off of his stumbling, zombie friend. Rachel groaned loudly, mouth gaping. She tried to snap his jaw but it was broken, and hanging loosely against her neck. She’d never sing again, that was for sure.

 “Oh God, please,” Kurt whimpered. Rachel swiped a hand at him and Kurt hopped back. He grabbed the first thing his hand touched, a rolling pin, and held it menacingly over his head. “Rachel, I’m ordering you, stop or I’ll-”

She launched herself at Kurt, and he swung the heavy pin down on instinct. It collided with Rachel’s skull with a solid _thunk_ , and dark red blood splattered all over Kurt and the kitchen cupboards. He hadn’t hit her hard enough though. She was small but determined, and he felt her hand wrap tightly around his knee.

“No!” he screamed, hoping to somehow get through to her. But it was no use. Rachel’s fingers tightened and she shoved her decaying mouth closer to Kurt’s flesh.

He hit her again with the rolling pin but she was still groaning, still alive in some sense of the word.

He heard footsteps pounding through the foyer and he looked up through tear-clouded eyes to see Blaine storming into the kitchen with a rifle in his hand.

“Kurt!” he cried as he aimed the gun at Rachel’s sluggishly moving head. “Cover your face.”

He did, just in time for his forearms to become covered in grey matter and chunks of Rachel’s scalp.

“Jesus, oh _Jesus_ ,” he choked, pushing Rachel’s motionless corpse off of him. He stumbled over her body and ran to Blaine, ready to throw his arms around him and sob into his chest.

“Don’t,” Blaine ordered lowly.

“What? Blaine, please. I don’t know what’s happening,” Kurt said to his boyfriend, voice ragged and face wet. He looked back at Rachel and on the kitchen floor and hiccupped, “We have to _go_.”

“Yes, you should go to the high school, that’s where all the uninfected are heading,” Blaine told him calmly. “Take this,” he said, holding out the rifle.

“I don’t know how to shoot,” he said, staring down at it in horror. “You’ll have to do it for me. Or teach me or something.”

He shook his head, curls long broken loose from their gel helmet. “I can’t come with you. You have to go.”

“Blaine, you’re coming with me. Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, reaching out a hand to grip his arm.

“Don’t touch me!” he cried, leaping back.

“What are you _doing_?” Kurt demanded. “Blaine, there are fucking zombies-”

“I know! Now take the gun and go to the high school before I turn!” he gasped, eyes filling with tears.

“What?” he asked dumbly, mind refusing to understand.

He clenched his jaw and pulled the sleeve of his shirt up. A red, bloated bite mark marred his forearm, and the deep indents from the teeth were turning black.

“I couldn’t even make it one day in the zombie apocalypse, _Kurt_ ,” he said, voice hitching on his name. He wiped his face with his other arm and continued. “But you still have a chance. _Go_.”

Kurt shook his head fervently. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Blaine bit his lip and nodded, looking at the ground. “I thought you’d say that.” He put the rifle on the counter and slipped a handgun out from the back of his pants. “But I still have to go.”

“Blaine, what are you doing?” His mouth was dry and his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest.

“I have to go,” he repeated, stepping away without turning his back on him.

“Why do you need a gun? Come back here.” Kurt followed him on shaky legs, and tried to grab for him, a cruel imitation of what he and Finn had gone through minutes before.

Blaine spun and ran out of the house, slamming the front door shut behind him.

“Blaine!” he cried, throwing the door open again.

“Stay there!” he ordered from the sidewalk. He bent over, puking up blood, before lifting his eyes to Kurt’s. “I love you,” he choked out, falling to his knees.

With a jerky hand he managed to press the barrel of the gun against his temple.

“Don’t you _dare_!” Kurt shrieked from the porch. He bounded down the steps, yelling, “Blaine Anderson, don’t even think-”

He was halfway down the path when a harsh crack tore through the air and he lost the love of his life.


	5. Zombies (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I wrote two zombie prompts because I just couldn't help myself, but this one is much less angsty- neither Kurt nor Blaine die.
> 
> Warnings: Zombies, mild violence, MINOR CHARACTER DEATH

_What’s the worst that could happen?_

The words pounded against Kurt’s skull as he and Blaine broke into the research laboratory they’d once worked in. Though was still considered breaking and entering if there was no one around to tell them ‘no’?

 _What’s the worst that could happen?_ haunted him as he inspected Blaine’s wound, unwilling to call it a bite.

 _What’s the worst that could happen?_ echoed mercilessly in his mind as Blaine laughed, just a desperate huff of air escaping his lungs, when the two of them came to the inevitable conclusion.

The thoughtless question was the only sound he could hear other than Blaine’s laboured breathing as he raced around the empty lab, frantically mixing chemicals and hoping for a miracle.

**_Three Months Earlier_ **

_Monday_

Kurt strolled into the lab, humming happily. He tugged on the end of Blaine’s lab coat as he passed him, and then winked when his fiancée shook his head at him.

“You are late, mister,” Blaine chastised, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Kurt shrugged, pulling on his own lab coat. “No coffee in the labs, and I’m useless without it. What do you expect me to do?”

“Kick your caffeine addiction,” Sebastian muttered from the corner, head buried in the bright white cupboards.

“Good morning, Sebastian!” Kurt called to the other scientist that they worked with. “What are you up to today?”

“Cure to the common cold, end world hunger, the usual,” he said, walking back to his station with a handful of chemicals.

“Whoa, sure you’re not trying for a bomb?” Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow at the wide variety of chemicals already littering his workspace.

“I know what I’m doing,” he snapped.

He ignored how Kurt and Blaine exchanged meaningful glances. Sebastian had applied to be on the cancer research team several times. He hadn’t been accepted, but that didn’t exactly stop him from trying on his own. His mother had been in the hospital for months with brain cancer and her health was deteriorating rapidly. Sebastian was convinced he could find a cure, or at least something to slow down the massive tumour growing inside of her skull, as long as he kept trying.

“Did you even go home last night?” Kurt inquired, taking in the dark bags beneath Sebastian’s eyes.

“Yes,” he replied tersely, not looking up from his work.

“You were already well into your work when I got here,” Blaine commented. “And I came in early.”

“Get off my back, alright?” he said, the words bursting loudly from his lips. He ran a shaky hand through his messy hair, glowering at the two of them. “I think this could be it,” he said after a moment, holding up a needle filled with a bright green serum. “I’m gonna go inject it into one of the monkeys.”

“Sebastian, every animal that’s been on the receiving end of one of your stupid creations has died,” Kurt sighed. “Use a rat.”

“Don’t use any animal!” Blaine argued, side eyeing Kurt. He shrugged apologetically, but he knew Sebastian was going to go through with it regardless of what either of them said. Better another rat die than a monkey. “These animals are not for your personal experimentation.”

Sebastian ignored them both and headed into to the holding room. The walls were lined with cages filled with endless amounts of rats and rabbits but only held two macaque monkeys. He went straight to one of the monkey cages.

Kurt followed him into the room with Blaine on his heels. “Sebastian,” he said in a warning tone.

“I swear to God, if one more damn animal dies because of your non-authorized injections, I _will_ report you,” Blaine threatened, crossing his arms.

“You don’t know the effects-” Kurt tried to convince him.

“Relax,” Sebastian said, opening the door of the cage and coaxing the animal closer to him. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

_Wednesday_

“Breaking news, Sebastian killed another animal,” Blaine announced. He sighed as he left the holding room, snapping off his rubber gloves.

“It’s not dead yet,” Sebastian corrected with a snarl.

“He’s going to be. High fever, increased heart rate, not to mention the sores appearing all over its body. Say your good-byes to Ralph now.”

“I’m really glad you don’t have a pet, Seb,” Kurt said dryly from his stool on the other side of the room.

“Give it a few more days,” he grumbled. “You never know.”

_Friday_

“Do you have to keep killing the poor animals?” the intern asked, poking his head out of the holding room, voice thick with disappointment.

“Take it up with Sebastian, Rory,” Kurt said, frowning disapprovingly at the scientist in question.

“Okay, so it didn’t work,” he admitted, throwing his hands in the air. “What do you want me to do?”

It was a rhetorical question, but the three other men shouted incredulously, “Stop experimenting!” anyway.

He rolled his eyes and ordered Rory, “Get rid of the corpse, Irish.”

“That’s not even clever,” he muttered as he trudged back into the holding room, door swinging shut. “Poor little guy.” His mutters were heard through the intercom as he extricated Ralph from his cage.

“You’re wearing gloves, right?” Blaine checked.

“Of course I’m – What the-? AH!” his shout of terror caused Kurt to look up from his beaker.

“Holy fuck, drop the thing!” Sebastian yelled, jumping out of his chair in shock.

Kurt stared through the viewing window as the beige macaque, which had barely moved since yesterday, clawed at Rory’s face and shrieked loudly. Rory tried to shove it away from himself, but the monkey still clung to him, legs wrapped tightly around Rory’s waist.

“I thought you said it was dead!” Kurt yelled to be heard over the monkey’s screeches.

“It _was_ ,” Rory cried as he tried to wrestle the animal away from him.

Blaine rose to action, stepping forward towards the room. Kurt’s reached out immediately and grabbed his arm, refusing to let him anywhere near the most likely rabid animal.

“Sebastian, tranquilize the monkey,” he ordered calmly.

The man started, tearing his gaze away from the shocking scene in front of him. He grabbed a tranquilizer needle from under a nearby counter and ran into the room. The doors closed slowly behind him as he ran over to Rory, needle poised to inject.

The monkey threw its head back and sank its fangs into Rory’s neck.

“Oh God, please help me!” he yelped as blood started soaking his lab coat. He’d been so excited to even been allowed to wear it.

Sebastian jabbed the needle into the monkey’s chest, but it showed no signs of ceasing its devouring of Rory’s flesh, even though the tranquilizer was strong enough to knock out an adult human instantly.

“Please,” Rory gurgled, slumping to the floor.

The monkey managed to take a few bites out of Sebastian before security arrived.

_What’s the worst that could happen?_

Rory’s autopsy ended up being more of a biopsy, since he woke up halfway through and started attacking the coroner.

Who got the bites cleaned and went home.

Much like Sebastian.

Kurt was not surprised at all when, not even a week later, he got the call telling him that they had both began viciously assaulting people.

And, for all the zombie movie warnings, and anti-pandemic measures that were supposed to have been taken, the disease spread incredibly quickly anyway.

Any recognizable society crumbled soon thereafter.

**_Present_ **

Kurt’s lab coat swished around his legs as he raced around the empty lab, fluorescent lights flickering unsurely overhead. Blaine’s heavy breathing reverberated in Kurt’s ears as he swirled various chemicals together.

Every once in a while the breaths would halt for just an extra moment and Kurt would freeze until they resumed. Because he needed to keep hearing Blaine’s harsh pants of breath. If they stopped, if everything went silent, that meant he was too late. Blaine’s heart had stopped. Kurt had failed.

And he couldn’t let that happen.

His clammy hands struggled to grasp pencils and beakers and bottles. He was working as fast as he could and it still wasn’t fast enough.

Every once in a while he would look up, to briefly gaze at his fiancée in the holding room. They both had agreed that he should stay in there.

‘Just in case’.

In case Kurt didn’t find a cure before Blaine died to turn into a zombie.

Blaine moaned in pain, and Kurt knew how much he must be hurting because Blaine refused to admit to Kurt how much the sores covering his skin _burned_. He bit his lip to prevent more pained sounds from escaping, and the skin broke because of how chapped it was. He spat the blood onto the floor, and curled up further into a ball.

Later he would sprawl across the floor, the fever causing fire to run through his veins.

Kurt turned back down to his work, dying on the inside just as much as Blaine.

Hours passed, or maybe minutes, as he worked frantically to find a cure. It could have been days except that Kurt knew that Blaine didn’t have days.

“Kurt,” Blaine groaned. “Kurt, please. I don’t think I have much longer.”

He nodded without looking up, looking over Sebastian’s scribbles from months before. He had the ingredients of the original disease, so he should be able to find a cure from that.

Or so they hoped.

“I- I think this could be it,” he told Blaine, licking his lips. He was thirsty and hungry and tired; they’d left the house too quickly to bring supplies, and he didn’t think he’d slept since Blaine had been bitten. But he wasn’t really aware of any of that.

Blaine’s breath stuttered and Kurt’s heart stopped. No, no he was so _close_ -

It returned in a shudder, uneasy and unhealthy but there.

That was it, Kurt couldn’t wait any longer.

“This has to be it,” he said aloud.

He extracted the serum he was working on into a clean needle and headed into the holding room, stepping carefully around empty and abandoned animal cages.

“Kurt,” Blaine whimpered. His eyes were bloodshot and glassy, but the love and trust in them was just as intense as before he had been infected.

He kneeled next to him on the floor and shot him a watery smile. “I love you,” he said as he carefully injected his arm with his hastily constructed possible-cure. He held his breath and stared at Blaine’s face once he had removed the needle.

“Well?”

Blaine smiled, lip scabs opening and blood peeking out.

“I don’t feel worse,” he replied weakly.

He choked back a sob. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s the best I can do, there’s no time for anything else. I can’t-”

“Shh,” he hushed, putting an incredibly hot palm to Kurt’s cheek. “It’s okay. It might work, Kurt. You have to believe.”

“It’s not a fairy, Blaine!” he snapped, angry at himself for being useless and zombies for being assholes and Sebastian for being an idiot.

“I dunno, zombies exist, after all. Who says magic won’t work?” he retorted. Coughs suddenly rattled his body, loud and dry, and Kurt wished he had clean water to offer him. Blaine swallowed and leaned his head on the wall, closing his eyes. “If this is goodbye, Kurt-”

“I _refuse_ to say goodbye to you,” he cut in vehemently, tears streaking down his cheeks.

His lips twitched up and his dull eyes found Kurt’s fiery blue ones. “I love you, Kurt. I loved you from the first moment I met you and I’ve loved you more every day since then. I’ll love you tomorrow and I’ll love you forever.”

“Yeah, you’ll love me forever because you’re gonna live forever. You’re not rejecting what could possibly be my last gift to you by _dying_ ,” he insisted. He wanted to squeeze his hand emphasis but he couldn’t because of the sores.

“I agree. We’ll have forever,” he nodded. “But for now, let’s have a nap.”

“Don’t you dare let your heart stop beating,” Kurt ordered, trying to cuddle against Blaine while avoiding aggravating his wounds.

“Never,” Blaine promised as they both closed their eyes.

Kurt started from sleep to a darkened room. The power had finally crapped out on them, it seemed.

“Blaine?” He spoke his name tentatively, knowing that if he had turned into a zombie he’d have been dead by now, but whatever he injected him with certainly could have killed him.

“Heart’s still beating,” he said softly, and though Kurt couldn’t quite see him, he knew that he was smiling.

“And?” he prompted, trying to hold his relief at bay, just for now. He hopped to his feet and joined Blaine at the window he was gazing out at.

The moon shone down on Blaine’s already blazing grin, and Kurt couldn’t help but smile back.

“Fever’s gone, heart rate’s normal. I’m not in so much pain that I can’t walk,” he replied happily. His grin grew impossibly wider. “You did it, Kurt. You found the cure for zombiedom.”

“I saved you?” he breathed, hardly daring to believe it.

“You saved everyone, Kurt,” he replied, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “You saved everyone.”


	6. Western

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is very loosely Western. Sorry if you wanted horses and cacti because this is not it.
> 
> Warnings: Crossdressing (for a costume), lots of sexual innuendos in this one- I don't know what came over me.

Blaine and Kurt were trying to surreptitiously cuddle in the back of the choir room when Brittany stood up.

“I have an announcement,” she said, bouncing slightly on her heels.

Kurt waited for Santana to make a snarky comment, like every other time somebody took the floor, but then he looked over at her, attentive and smiling, and he remembered that it wouldn’t be the case.

“I’m having a Halloween party at my house next week and you’re all invited!”

A beat of silence passed, before Mercedes pointed out, “Uh, honey? It’s March. Halloween’s in October.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “Yes, and I think it’s completely inconsiderate to just forget about Halloween the rest of the year. It’s not even a ‘real’ holiday, it gets so left out. Christmas and Easter and Labour Day shun poor Halloween from all their trips to the park, and then on top of that people don’t even think about it the other thirteen months in the year.”

Blaine tilted his head to the side quizzically, but he had learned that it was easier not to ask.

“It’s Halloween’s half-birthday this month,” the blonde cheerleader continued, “and we should all celebrate it.”

“Well, I’m down for any kind of party. Gots to get my groove on,” Artie said, and the rest of the club agreed with nods and smiles.

“Great,” Brittany bobbed her head excitedly. “Oh, and to make sure that everyone actually puts an effort into their costumes, there will be a costume contest, and the winner will win a hundred dollar gift certificate to everybody’s favourite date spot, Breadstix.”

That got everybody’s interest, and soon the whole room was filled with excited chatter.

“We have to win,” Blaine said, turning eagerly to face Kurt.

Kurt raised a brow. “Do we now?”

He nodded. “We’ll have an awesome date-”

  “I thought all our dates were awesome,” he cut in, mildly offended.

   He laughed, laying a hand on his arm. “Yeah of course they are. But we can have fun getting the most expensive things on the menu-”

   “Which is probably just the steak that they burn half the time anyway-”               

   “-and you can get that specialty cheesecake you’ve had your eye on,” he continued, raising his eyebrows encouragingly.

   “The Double Chocolate Extra Creamy Heavenly Delight,” Kurt sighed, daydreaming of the dessert he’d considered ordering almost every time he went to Breadstix. He always decided against it though, because firstly, it would go straight to his hips, and secondly, it was absurdly pricey for a dessert in a family owned restaurant.

   “Plus, anything would be better than our last date,” Blaine added in a mumble.

   “What was wrong with our last date?” he asked, snapping himself out of his cheese-cake induced daze.

   “We went to see the local production of _Grease_ with Rachel and Finn and she complained the whole show about what a better Sandy she would have been,” he reminded him with a slight huff of annoyance.

   “To be fair, she _would_ have made a much better Sandy,” he pointed out. “Community theatre is kind of hit or miss…”

   “And that was way off target,” Blaine finished with a sad nod. “ _Anyway_ , we still need to win that costume contest. It’ll be great! Costumes are fun. Winning is fun. Cheesecakes are fun!”

   “True, very true.” Kurt did not need much convincing to get involved in a competition. “Designing costumes is fun, too.”

   “Oh, and Kurt,” Brittany spoke up as Schuester walked in. “You can’t dress up as a unicorn. Or a dolphin. That’s cheating.”

* * *

 

   After school they headed to Kurt’s house to discuss potential costume ideas.

   “Zombies,” Blaine suggested, bouncing onto Kurt’s bed.

   “Cliché,” Kurt replied, retrieving his design notebook from his bedside table.

   “Hmm… How about superheroes?”

   He shook his head. “ _So_ last month.”

   “Firefighters?”

   “But you’re already so hot,” he teased. “You’d have to put yourself out.”

   “I’d rather have _you_ put me out,” Blaine retorted, raising his eyebrows.

   “Is that supposed to mean something dirty?”

   “Maybe,” he trailed off, walking his fingers up Kurt’s thigh.

   Kurt bit his lip, ready to put off costume decisions for the moment until Finn and Rachel walked past Kurt’s open door. The couple was obviously discussing their own costume ideas, and they all shared a squinty-eyed stare down.

   “Better idea,” Blaine muttered before whispering his suggestion in Kurt’s ear.

   “Oh, we’ll definitely win with that,” Kurt smirked as Rachel frowned and dragged Finn away.

* * *

 

   It was a tense week in glee club. Everyone was convinced that they’d win, and were suspicious of other people stealing their ideas. There was a lot of sniping and glaring and Brittany complaining about how that was _not_ what Halloween was about.

   Kurt was of course above all that. He knew that he and Blaine would win. He had spent the last week designing the costumes, buying the materials, and measuring and sewing faster than he ever had in his life.

   It would be an absolute travesty if they didn’t get that damn gift certificate.

   Friday night brought Blaine once again to Kurt’s room, while Kurt rushed around him, making last minute adjustments to his costume.

   “Okay, I think…” he trailed off, tugging once more at a button. He stepped back and gave him a critical once over. “You need to put on the hat. And then you’re done!”

   Blaine gleefully shoved the wide-brimmed hat onto his head. “How do I look?” he grinned.

   “Dashing, as always,” he smiled back. His eyes roamed over Blaine’s broad chest, covered by a tight faux leather vest. Underneath was a beige shirt, accompanied by a bright red kerchief tied around his neck. His jeans were tight (probably tighter than necessary, if Kurt was being completely honest, but _come on_ ) and mostly covered by chaps, tucked into brown cowboy boots. Around his waist was a belt holding two convincing, but fake, revolvers.

   Blaine’s warm hands ran up Kurt’s thighs, seemingly of their own will.

   “Blaine,” he giggled, stepping back.

   “I can’t help it,” he groaned. “It’s your costume.”

   “Yeah? What about it?” he challenged, smirking.

   “It’s so hot,” he almost whined.

   “Yours is hotter,” Kurt said.

   He snorted. “Yeah, _no_ … Is your dad even gonna let you out of the house in that?”

   Kurt bit his lip thoughtfully, which only served to distract Blaine more, and then replied with a shrug. “I can wear whatever I want as long as I rant against gender stereotypes long enough.”

   “Whatever you say,” he agreed, looking at his watch. “Come on. It’s time to make all the girls jealous and the guys uncomfortable.”

   Kurt tossed his head back and laughed as he followed Blaine out of the room.

   They arrived to the party just past fashionably late because Blaine got a little handsy in the car, but Kurt’s promise of ‘ _Later’_ was enough to get him into the house. The music was loud and there were a lot more pumpkins than Kurt had expected Brittany to be able to get a hold of in March. There was also no alcohol because Brittany didn’t wanted to tarnish Halloween’s good name, so it was already turning out to be a better party than Rachel’s last one.

   “Hey, Blaine- _whoa_ ,” Mike said, eyes going wide as he noticed Kurt.

   “Hi, Mike,” Kurt grinned, leaning into Blaine’s side. “Who are you supposed to be?”

   He blinked, looking down at his white V-neck, jeans and black boots. “It won’t click without Tina.”

   “Oh my God Kurt, you look so pretty!” Brittany squealed, walking up to them dressed as a bright pink fairy.

   “Thanks.”

   “Santana totally might be interested in a three-way now,” she continued enthusiastically.

   Kurt’s face flushed as red as the lipstick he’d reapplied after Blaine attacked his mouth in the car and smoothed down the feather on the top of his head nervously. “Um, no thank you.”

   He would not let himself regret his costume decision. The blue of the corset complimented his skin tone perfectly, he reasoned. And though the skirt was short, reaching barely mid-thigh in the front and slighter longer in the back, it was still tasteful… if it weren’t for the fishnets and high heels.

   But after all, he’d went with authenticity over modesty. Saloon girls hadn’t exactly been known for their subtlety.

   Blaine caught his eye and winked. “I am _more_ than enough for this guy,” he assured Brittany.

   “Blaine!” he squawked, slapping him on the chest.

   “What?” He grinned like he just couldn’t help it.

   Since he couldn’t resist smiling back, he ignored him and headed to the snack table.

   “Kurt,” Finn choked, mouth hanging open.

   “Hi Frankenteen,” he sang at his Frankenstein-costumed stepbrother. Rachel and him had gotten into a huge argument early on and had decided against couple costumes. “You’re blocking the punch.”

   “What- what are you w-? You don’t have _breasts_.”

   “Very perceptive. It’s padded,” he replied dryly.

   “I feel like I’m overshadowed by your undeniable allure, hun,” Blaine pouted at Kurt.

   He patted his cheek. “Sorry. I can’t help but pull focus.”

   Finn went beet red and ran off.

   “Punch?” Blaine offered, biting back a laugh.

   “Please,” he replied with a roll of his eyes.

* * *

 

   “Ugh, I am never wearing fishnets _again_ ,” Kurt complained, tugging them down for the umpteenth time that night.

   “Not comfy?” Blaine asked.

   “I thought my skinny jeans were bad,” he shook his head. “Where are your guns?”

   After making the obligatory, ‘they’re right here’ comment and flexing his muscles, he replied, “Nick and Jeff took them a while ago. Apparently I wasn’t using them properly.”

   “Pew pew!” Kurt heard Nick shout from behind a couch, aiming his gun across the room.

   Jeff tucked and rolled behind the unicorn version of Lord Tubbington for cover.

   Brittany had been kind enough to invite the Warblers as well, and Nick and Jeff had shown up as a plug and an outlet respectively, and then changed costumes half-way through to ‘properly represent their relationship’.

   Puck had not been able to stop laughing for five minutes straight.

   Brittany took the karaoke microphone from Rachel after the end of her fifth consecutive song and announced brightly, “Costume contest time! All contestants to the front of the room, please.”

   Kurt grinned and grabbed Blaine’s hand before doing as she asked, and at least half of the guests followed. The Warblers did not live in Lima, and therefore did not understand the overwhelming appeal of Breadstix, so most didn’t bother with the contest, though they all had worn costumes anyway. Except Wes, who had just worn his Dalton uniform. Kurt wasn’t sure if he actually owned any other clothes.

   He waved across the room at Tina, looking adorable in her Ariel costume with Mike as Eric. He took in Santana’s devil costume, Puck’s dinosaur get-up, Sam’s Yoda outfit and everybody else competing against them. He was convinced that he and Blaine would win. He had spent far too much time and effort on their clothes to lose to any of the others’ store-bought costumes.

   “I have just a few words to say before I announce the winner,” Brittany spoke into the microphone. “We all know what it’s like to feel left out, so coming together and throwing Halloween such an _awesome_ party nowhere near October definitely made the holiday feel special. A round of applause for everyone here, okay?”

   Cheers filled the room, though many of the Warblers looked a bit confused.

   “Thank you. Thank you guys so much,” she continued when everyone had quieted down. “Everybody looks _so_ great. You’ve all put a lot of effort into your costumes, and it definitely shows. But I’ve talked it over with Lord Tubbington, and there is really no competition for who has the best costume… Can I get a drumroll?”

   Finn tapped out a quick beat on his thighs.

   Brittany grinned brightly and shouted, “Santana! As the hottest devil that I’ve ever seen!”

   The she-demon strutted over to her girlfriend and they kissed in triumph, to the cheers and applause of everyone around them.

   Most of New Directions were still side-eyeing them pretty hard, though.

   Kurt clapped to be polite and grumbled, “I should have seen that coming.”

   “We all should have,” Blaine agreed, smiling regardless.

   “Why are you still so pleased?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

   “Well, I’m _pretty_ sure that now constitutes as ‘later’,” he replied with emphasis.

   “La-? _Oh_ ,” he said, lips slowly curving in realization.

   “And you know what they say,” he continued, slipping a hand under the back of Kurt’s skirt.

   “Please tell me.”

   “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” His grin was wide but dirty, and just for Kurt.

   “Oh, I fully intend to,” he chuckled lowly. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Blaine’s lips, and his tongue almost immediately licked into his mouth. “Privacy,” he pulled back, gasping, after minute. “We need so much privacy for this.”

   “Yee-haw,” Blaine breathed as Kurt dragged him away from the crowd by his kerchief.


	7. Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one, thanks for reading! I'll just remind you that there is a Fairytale AU separately posted, if you are interested in that.
> 
> Warnings: None!

   “Look at this,” Rachel screeched as she stomped into the circus tent. She held up a colourful poster, jerking it around her head like it had personally offended her.

   “Bit busy,” Puck replied as he lighted a torch.

   Everyone else seemed to have the same idea of ignoring her outburst and they continued working on their acts.

   “I am serious, guys! We need to have a meeting! I want everyone on the ground, facing me-”

   “Oh Jesus _Christ_ ,” Santana said, throwing a knife at a bulls-eye blindfolded. “We get it, you’ve been extremely attention-starved lately.”

   “That is not what this is about,” she said indignantly.

   High above their argument, Kurt rolled his eyes and gestured to Brittany that they were going down. He lowered one of the strong silk ropes they used in their trapeze act, and Brittany slid down along with it until she slipped off a few feet from the ground.

“Brittany, if you could please tell me what the hobbit is complaining about before one of my knives ‘misses’ their target?” Santana asked, instinctively knowing when her girlfriend had reached the ground.

   “The Wandering Warblers: Circus and Show,” she read, tilting her head to read the poster Rachel’s hand was partially obscuring. “Ooh! That sounds fun. We should go.”

   “They’re competition,” Rachel said, spit flying from her mouth with each syllable. “How dare they encroach on our territory?”

   “We haven’t performed in months,” Kurt pointed out dryly, dropping delicately onto a nearby bench. “They’re completely within their rights to-”

   “We’re reopening next week,” she cut in, eyes blazing. All the performers of ‘Berry’s Bumbling Circus’ as they had taken to calling themselves were now gathered in a small circle around their loud-mouthed ringmaster. “They are purposely trying to steal our thunder!”

   “Well if we hadn’t taken such a long break in the first place,” Santana began, finally ripping off her blindfold to glare at Rachel.

   “Oh, don’t get her started,” Kurt groaned, tilting his head back.

   “Half of the main tent burnt down! We were down a lion! Finn almost had his arm bit off! He is the-”

   “-most important part of the whole show,” they all muttered along with her, having heard this speech many times before.

   “Second only to you, the illustrious Miss Rachel Berry,” Mercedes huffed, crossing her arms. “We could have gotten along without a lion tamer for a few months.”

   “Don’t be ridiculous-”

   “Please, everyone knows the audience comes for Kurt and Brittany,” Santana said. “Hot pieces of ass wrapped in barely any material, and there’s the chance they’ll fall and die. It’s what the people want.”

   “I feel so violated,” Kurt mumbled.

   “Um, hello?” Puck asked. “I swallow _fire_. Don’t try to tell me that’s not the main event.”

   “Dude. Shot out of a fucking cannon,” Sam put in, pointing at himself.

   “I think everyone likes the elephants,” Rory said.

   “Oh shut _up_ , Rory,” half of the group sighed.

   “The point is-” Rachel started, trying to get the attention back on her.

   “The point is, we don’t even know if they’re any good,” Kurt cut in. “Have we ever heard of these people before? No. They’re probably a bunch of hacks with a deformed goat and a backyard trampoline. I don’t foresee a problem.”

   “Are you a psychic now?” Rachel demanded, raising her eyebrow. “Sorry, I didn’t see your magic ball lying around, let’s put you in another act!”

   “Okay Rachel, calm down,” Mike said, stepping in to defend Kurt. “He’s probably right, so just take a deep breath and stop screaming at your performers. Finn’s gonna be back tomorrow and Rory’s been taking great care of the animals, especially our new lion, and we’ve already sold out all our seats for our first show next week. Everything’s going to be fine.”

   Rachel folded her arms across her chest and bit her lip to hold back her pout. “Fine,” she finally ground out. “I apologize for yelling. But I still want someone to go watch their show and report back to me.”

   “I’ll go!” Brittany volunteered brightly.

   “No,” Rachel shot down without even considering it. “Kurt, you’re going.”

   “What?” he said. “Brittany and I need to spend all our time practicing, Rachel. I don’t want to make a mistake and end up splattered all over the ground.”

   “It won’t take more than a few hours,” she assured him. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

    Even Brittany shot her an incredulous look for that comment.

   “What?” she shrugged.

   And that was how Kurt found himself guiltily buying a ticket to The Wandering Warblers the next night. It felt an awful lot like spying, and he didn’t really want to do that, but Rachel had been insistent that he was the only person she could trust with such an important task.

   The ticket seller grinned at him widely and wished him a good night, and Kurt nodded before slumping into the tent towards the seating area. The tent was significantly smaller than their own, but that was to be expected since it was a travelling affair and not a standing one like ‘Berry’s Train Crash of a Circus’. He shook his head as he sat down, trying not to think about what a catastrophe their last performance had been.

   He really hoped this circus sucked.

   The fabric of the tent looked well taken care of though, no gaping tears or duct tape fixes, which was often more than could be said for their own tent. The crowd around him seemed more mature than the audiences of their circus; few children running amuck. Kurt wondered what type of performance they’d actually be doing. He hadn’t thought to check, because he was so convinced they’d be useless.

   He was just starting to get nervous when the lights dimmed and a spotlight focused on a small platform in the center of the arena. Light, tinkling music started playing, just on the other edge of creepy, and that’s when Kurt noticed glitter falling through the spotlight. He tilted his head, confused, and then a man in a suit finally jumped onto the platform, his smile and arms spread wide.

   “Welcome!” he began, music coming to a crescendo and then cutting out completely. “To the show. I am Master Montgomery,” he said, sweeping off his top hat and spreading the glitter that had landed on it in an arch across his head.

   Jesus, this was dramatic. Captivating, though. He’d have to speak to Rachel about amping up her entrance.

   “Prepare yourselves for a tale of agonizing woe and unforgettable love. But also for the promise that there will always be hope, if you just know where to look.” His gaze swept across the audience and after a moment pulled his hat back on his head. His lips tilted up into a mysterious smile and he finished, “Ladies and gentlemen and everyone else in between, please enjoy your evening with the Wandering Warblers!” he finished loudly and the lights shut off immediately, accompanied by a clash of drums.

   Silence fell for a moment, and then soft strands of violins filtered in. A light focused high on the ceiling of the tent, where a curly-haired man sat on a swing, chin in hand. The make-up on his mouth exaggerated his pout in the way of a clown, and his eyebrows were lined in thick black paint to make them look triangular. His clothes were fitted tightly to his body, which made sense since he was obviously going to be doing some acrobatics.

He looked out into the crowd and sighed hugely, the picture of melancholy. Then, there was a soft drumroll, and a second spotlight landed on another person, facing away from the audience, each hand gripping a rope much like the kind Kurt and Brittany used in their act. His head was ducked down, face completely hidden from view.

   The first man lit up at the sight of the new person and he threw himself through the air towards him, but before he could reach the form, another figure swooped down from in front of the second man and stole him out of sight.

   The music grew louder as the first man flew from rope to rope looking for the men, but as he slowly slid down the rope to the ground, eyes downcast and pout back in place, it became obvious that they were both gone.

The next hour was nothing short of amazing. Kurt couldn’t take his eyes off of the lead of the show. Which, he supposed, was the point. He was incredibly charismatic, and the fact that none of the entertainers ever spoke a word didn’t hinder the story they told at all. The expressions of the acrobats, contortionists, jugglers, tumblers, and all other manner of performers, coupled with the orchestra, was more than enough to tell of the main character’s quest to find his true love who was stolen from him at the beginning of the show.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that the protagonist was absolutely, drop-dead _gorgeous_.

Yeah, Kurt hadn’t missed that.

When the man was finally reunited with his love after battling the villain, and the instruments fell silent, Kurt was the first on his feet to lead in a standing ovation.

And he could have sworn the lead performer smiled at him when he jumped out of his seat.

 The performers froze in place as Master Montgomery walked up to the platform he’d stood on earlier and thanked the audience, said something about wonder and whimsy, and then bid them farewell. Kurt wasn’t really listening, his attention was still fixed on the curly-haired lead.

Then the lights in the arena dimmed, the seated area grew brighter and people started to leave. Kurt almost groaned out loud.

 _Competition_ , Rachel’s shrill voice echoed in his head.

Really, really impressive competition.

So he probably shouldn’t be thinking of some way to try and talk to him. Just to catch his name. To stare into his eyes that were probably a hundred times better up close…

Nope, no, not at all.

He stood up, determined to leave, when he heard someone speaking behind him.

“Do you think we can get their autographs?” a woman asked.

“What?” her male companion replied, utterly disinterested.

“The guy with the top hat just said that they’d all be hanging around out back if anybody wanted to say hi!” she explained. “Do you think we could…?”

Kurt was slipping through the crowd rushing down the steps and out of the tent before he could hear the end of the question. He really should leave, he tried to convince himself, as he considered his options outside the main flap of the tent. He noticed a few people wandering around the side of the tent, towards the back, and he started walking past them before he consciously made a decision. He wanted to get to the performers before them.

He saw the villain of the show first; a short brunette man now laughing and taking a picture with some audience member. Close to him was the love of the main character, making faces at the villain, entertaining the crowd. The juggler and the snake charmer were chatting with people too, but where was-? He finally spotted him, make-up half-removed and grinning widely at ‘Master Montgomery’, who had his arm thrown around his shoulders.

It looked completely friendly though, and not… anything else. And even if it did, that was completely fine because all Kurt wanted to do was compliment him on his ~~dashingly good looks~~ acrobatic talent. Really, he spent at least half the show in the air, and Kurt _was_ impressed by many of the moves he’d done. Also his acting had been amazing, he’d really brought life to the show and- well he could be saying these things to him instead of just thinking them and staring at the man.

The fan he’d been talking to walked away and Kurt immediately stepped up and held out his hand. “Hi, hi- I- hi.”

His face was unjustly lovely. His eyes were a gorgeous honey colour and framed by thick lashes. His grin only grew brighter when he saw Kurt, and he slipped his hand into his, warm and soft, and Kurt had completely forgotten that he’d offered a handshake.

“Hi, I’m Blaine Anderson. Did you like the show?” he asked, voice of course just as exquisite as the rest of him.

Kurt nodded immediately. “Yeah, yeah I loved it! It was spectacular, you were _so_ great. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you.”

He laughed, and it was only then that Kurt realized how creepy he sounded and remembered that besides Blaine being _competition_ , he was also a very attractive man, which Kurt had always had trouble speaking to coherently.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his hand while his face flushed bright red. “That was weird, sorry!”

He just laughed again and said, “It’s fine, really. At least you weren’t bored.”

“Who could be bored watching _that_?” he replied, trying to regain his dignity.

“My brother can hardly sit through a performance,” he shrugged. “He gets fidgety when there’s no talking.”

“Well, children have short attention spans-”

“He’s well over thirty,” he smirked.

Kurt’s eyes widened. “Oh. Well, that’s another matter entirely, I suppose.”

Master Montgomery walked over again, looking pointedly from Blaine to the crowd of people waiting expectantly behind Kurt and back again.

“Sorry,” Blaine grinned apologetically at Kurt. “Gotta get to everyone.”

“Oh, of course, yeah-”

“Do you want a picture before you go?” he asked.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I’d love that,” he agreed, reaching into his jeans for his phone.

“Wes,” he nodded at the ringmaster, who took Kurt’s phone from him with a smile.

Blaine slipped his hand around Kurt’s waist and he just barely managed not to squeak. For lack of anything better to do, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

The flash went off, and Kurt was fairly sure he managed to smile at the camera.

Blaine let his arm fall, saying, “Sorry if it ends up being horrible, all this make-up must be making me look like the Joker by now.”

“You look great,” he assured him probably too quickly.

“Thanks- um, I never got your name?” he asked expectantly as Wes handed Kurt back his phone.

“Kurt Hummel,” he replied.

He grinned. “Pleasure to meet you, Kurt,” he said, squeezing his shoulder before allowing himself to be dragged away by Wes.

And Kurt might just have sighed like a love-struck teenager.

* * *

 

Nearly a week later was the successful reopening of The New Directions Circus Act. Seats were filled, knives were flung, body parts were contorted, and most importantly, no one was injured and the only fire that occurred went right down Puck’s throat, where it belonged.

After the show they were all squealing and jumping excitedly in the back room repeating various phrases like, “Nobody died!”, “We’re all alive!”,  and “Nothing bit anybody!”

Kurt pulled away from hugging Tina tightly and happened to catch a glimpse of a familiar body lurking in the doorway. His heart contracted nervously. He hadn’t seen Blaine since he’d spied on his circus act the week before. This could not bode well.

He stealthily slipped away from his fellow performers and went out to meet Blaine, who was sitting on an abandoned bench.

“No meet and greet?” he asked as Kurt sat down next to him.

“Rory and Sugar are out with the animals,” he answered, surprisingly calm. He kept his eyes fixed on a piece of hay on the ground. “Elephant rides and such.”

“Were you guys cheering ‘Nobody died’?”

“Yeah…”

“I knew I recognized the name Kurt Hummel from somewhere,” he said after a moment. “I looked you up on Google afterwards and-”

“I’m sorry,” burst forth from his lips. “Rachel sent me to spy, and she was so freaked out about stupid rival circuses-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Blaine interrupted his anxious rambling.

“What?”

“Kurt, you came to a public performance to check on the competition. It’s not a big deal,” he assured him.

“Really?” he asked, finally allowing himself to look at Blaine. His eyes were kind and soft, not angry looking at all.

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling. “Wes probably should have checked more thoroughly that there weren’t any local shows anyway. We don’t tend to set up shop right next to other circuses, I promise.”

“Oh, yeah, right. But… Um, if you’re not mad, why are you here?” Kurt asked nervously. “Are you spying on _us_?”

Blaine threw his head back and laughed. “If I was, I’d be just as bad at it as you were.”

Kurt chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. But then why…?”

“I um, well I did want to see the show,” he admitted. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off of you,” he teased, eyes bright.

“Oh God,” Kurt mumbled, putting his head in his hands.

“No, but you were really good, I’m serious,” he continued. “And um, I actually came by because I wanted to see you. Again. Like, I wanted to- to talk to you and stuff, not just watch your performance, even though that was awesome too, but-”

Kurt grinned easily. “Well, it’s certainly nice for you to be rambling for a change.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he laughed, reaching out for Kurt’s hand cautiously and then taking it when Kurt held his palm up. His eyes were hopeful as he asked, “Would you like to go for coffee sometime?”

“Rachel would _kill_ me for fraternizing with the enemy,” he replied dryly, biting the corner of his lip.

“Wes would wring my neck,” he agreed, leaning forward slowly.

“Super-secret romance?” Kurt suggested, voice hushed, eyes zeroed in on Blaine’s approaching mouth.

“Super-secret romance.” Blaine repeated before pressing their lips together.


End file.
